


The Given and The Returned

by panaramacon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, M/M, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaramacon/pseuds/panaramacon
Summary: Oin makes an opportunity out of a mild medical emergency in an attempt to help his King admit his love.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. Oin

Oin was not a stupid dwarf.

Deaf, yes. Stupid, no. He estimated he’d maybe a third the hearing he’d had as a child, but none of his wits had left him in his old age. He thanked Mahal every day for his eyes, which were as yet undimmed. 

He had watched the Burglar and the King dance around each other since they'd met in the Shire. The clues were there for anyone who cared to look. 

Others of the Company did not care to look, as it turned out, for Oin had been the first to approach Nori about starting a wager. Beorn’s ale had been hearty yet sweet, and Oin had drunk to his content as he watched the King blush when Bilbo laughed, taking a deep pull from his mug before walking to the back corner of the room.

He started the conversation by placing a sizable purse in front of Nori’s ale.

“Master Oin, was there something you wanted to say on behalf of the future?” The thief said, playful curiosity in his eyes as he began to take a sip.

“The King will marry the Burglar.” Oin said, his eyes hardened in a steel gaze as Nori spluttered and coughed himself into a laughing fit.

“What in Mahal’s name do you mean…” the thief stopped, seeing the serious look on Oins face and putting his ale down on the table with a noticeable thunk.

Nori tilted his head, still staring at Oin, utterly still and focused. _I am the first then. Ha._ Eventually Nori nodded once. It was oddly reminiscent of another bet Oin had placed, nearly 70 years ago. _And I was right then too, Mizim returned Gloin’s foolish heart by the third question._

“You sure enough to put a time frame on that?” the thief asked, all business.

“Within the year.”

Nori’s had a searching eye as he stared back at his companion. He took the purse before asking, “What did you see, you canny old coot?”

Oin merely smiled and patted the younger dwarfs shoulder as he walked away.

Nori could continue business even as a prisoner, so by the time they got to Laketown, the pool had grown. A few of the company bet on the ‘if’; most joined Oin on the 'when', but all bet. Oin was quite looking forward to relieving his brother (and Dori) of their money.

_We cannot always choose the direction of our heart. Gloin should know better, and he will be reminded once I win._

Oin was a traditionalist, yes, but he could not deny another their One. _An odd omen. Perhaps even a good one. Hobbits are creatures of light and laughter and growing things. Could be a good thing for a long-dead homeland. Definitely a good thing for a long-suffering King._

Young Master Baggins, seemingly without realizing what he had been doing for nigh on a year now, was breathing the life back into their King. He was cracking open the forgotten smile of a dwarf Oin had spent a large part of the last hundred and fifty keeping in this world. A dwarf he would be proud to follow into the next one.

But by the seven stars themselves, Thorin was an idiot sometimes.

His King truly was stubborn enough to send their hobbit back to the Shire come spring without a mention of his _...Love. He’s decided the mines are empty without surveying them, so lost in his tragedy he does not see opportunity shining in front of him._

To a dwarf, a one-sided love was a genuine possibility. A rare one, a grim one. The Given were revered for their strength, proof that Mahal’s creations were truly made to endure. Most dwarrows changed after their heart was given and never returned. Some became shadows of themselves, some hardened beyond repair, but none crossed the taboo. Three questions, three refusals, no further contact or mention of the devotion in their very bones.

_We fall once, and cannot begrudge another for not doing so_ . This respect was built into them as pebbles, in stories and songs of old, by elders revealing themselves in the right moments. _Love acquires no debts. If not given freely, it is not love._

Thorin had named Oin his personal healer after the Battle of Azanulbizar. The young healer lost himself in grief in front of the even younger prince that day, Thorin waking in a healing tent to Oin’s sobs of agony. Oin had been assessing triage cases, and found his One among them. It was the first time he’d seen his One since he had been refused a third time.

_He was gone already, the least I could do was make it quick. He asked me. He knew I could never say no to him and he asked me for the herbs anyway._

Prince Thorin had teased the story out of him there, in the healing tent, offering words of sorrow and comfort. _Of absolution_. He shared the weight of Oin’s burden, the fraction that he could. 

The Prince sobered after the battle, for many reasons, but the one he sought Oin out for was of the heart.

‘How did you live without him, before?’ He asked. ‘Can I help you live without him now?’ 

Oin suspected his grief had made too strong an impression on the lad.

He'd barked a harsh laugh before responding in a snarl. ‘I was not living. Not all of me, at least. It is not a wound that heals, my Prince. It’s not something that can be fixed.’

_This, however, can be handled quite simply._

The hobbit, in his need to be among things that grow, had been wandering through the newly-planted pine saplings on Erebor’s south face when the sudden snowstorm hit. _Shouldn’t’ve been out there alone in the first place, let alone so close to night._ He had been stranded with no shelter, wandering further from the gate in the white-out of the storm. He was spotted rather quickly once it passed, and Thorin himself rode out to retrieve him. He and the guards brought Bilbo directly to the healer’s wing.

_You carry your heart in your arms, my king._ Bilbo was soaking and shivering and hardly conscious. A few of his fingers and toes and of course his ears looked a bit nippy, but overall Oin was confident of a full recovery provided they act quickly.

He saw a chance to poke his King into action. _Love acquires no debts, but Thorin Oakenshield is too dense to see when it is being offered freely._ He might be able to give his King the chance at what he himself had never had. 

“Put him on the bed, and someone get me the shears for his wet clothes. He needs body heat and blankets, lots of them. Thorin, get your clothes off.”


	2. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin listens to his healer.

Thorin was praying he had misheard his old friend, his arms feeling strangely empty once he’d gently laid Bilbo on the bed. 

“Thorin?” Oin said again, snapping in front of his face as he didn’t move. Thorin wasn’t offended, this was Oin’s standard way of checking if he was succumbing to a head wound.  _ Fitting. _ Oin was handed shears by an assistant and efficiently began to slice off the hobbit’s clothes. “Are you in there? Bilbo needs body heat. Strip.”

When he still did not answer, stuck trying to breathe out, Oin gave him a viciously innocent smile and said, “Or would you rather I ask someone else to get naked and hold him?”

Thorin felt rather than heard himself growl at this, a low rumble that earned a loud, cracking laugh from Oin for his pains. _He does have a most ruthless sense of humor_. “That’s what I thought. Quickly now.”

He obeyed his healer's voice automatically this time, and Thorin began quickly unlacing, unbuckling, and shucking himself of armor, leathers, and clothes. In naught but his smalls he got on the bed next to Bilbo, a towel wrapped around the hobbit’s waist. His pale body shook violently, and whatever hesitation Thorin had was gone. He scooped Bilbo up in his arms like he would a babe, and Oin’s assistants began wrapping them in blankets. 

_ He is not yours. Don’t get used to this. Love acquires no debts. Just keep him warm. _

Slowly, too slowly, Bilbo’s shivers began to subside. As the color returned to his skin Thorin found himself wearing a soft smile. The sleeping hobbit was as curled into Thorin as he could be, drawn to the heat and being held close in return. Thorin was enjoying himself far too much, he knew, but to feel his hobbit’s smooth skin against his own was becoming more pleasurable as he warmed. To know that he was safe, and here, and breathing, it lifted a weight Thorin did not know he was carrying. Holding Bilbo was the most relaxing thing he’d done in... _ quite a long time. _

He helped Oin rub a salve on the hobbits' eartips and fingers, half of him trying to stop looking and the other half trying to memorize what his love felt like under his hands. 

Oin tells him to lie back, to sleep, and with a small kiss to Bilbo’s crown, he listens. _ Fili and Balin can handle things tonight. _


	3. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company learns of Oin's treatment plan.

The room was in an uproar and Bofur couldn’t stop grinning as he basked in the wave of sound. He noticed that across the room, Oin was similarly quiet, a small smile on the old healer’s face as his eyes took in the chaos his words had provoked.  _ He knew before the lot of us. May not be able to hear his own footsteps, but he sees everything. _

Oin had just announced the condition of the hobbit, and the related condition of the King. While all present were happy for the positive prognosis, there immediately came the question,  _ or rather the abrupt and thundering accusation,  _ as to whether Oin’s actions were strictly medical or if he was meddling in The Wager.  _ Not that there’s anything wrong with a bit of meddling. Long as you're honest about it.  _ Not all of the shouting was directed at Oin of course, but from Kili’s whoops to Bifur’s rapid-stream ancient Khuzdul dirty jokes, the room was truly alive and Bofur was glad to see it.

It became The Wager the night before they set off into Mirkwood. Nori had been talking to the wee hooligans, and the younger’s excitement over the proposed bet soon became the business of the whole room. Except the couple in question, who were quietly missing.  _ Their nightly smokes that they never acknowledged.  _ The argument among the company that night was fierce, and it was only Dwalin’s wariness that kept the lot of them from revealing themselves when the king stormed back in looking frustrated.

Bofur was sure that the company’s new watchfulness of their burglar and their leader helped them stay alert longer in the elves' musty forest. Once they were in the cells, the Wager became a usual and comforting tune. Slowly, moments that held little meaning on their own were being aggregated amongst the company, a story being told by the lot of them. It was a debate of sorts. By the time Bilbo stuffed them into barrels the only hold out was Gloin, refusing to entertain the  notion of a Son of Durin marrying a non-dwarf.  _ And Dori, always so dour, sure that Bilbo will refuse. _

Bofur placed his bet after Bilbo told them he’d finally found Thorin elsewhere in the dungeons.  _ The relief in his eyes shone bright as any opal.  _

“They’ll be wed in two Durin’s days,” he’d said to Nori. Balin and Fili joined him in his assessment. When Bilbo visited thereafter, many of the company were not above intentionally prodding him for a reaction.  _ He was our only contact with our King, it is reasonable we asked after his condition. If some of those questions made the hobbit blush to the tips of his pointed ears, well, who could’ve foreseen that? _

Once Oin, via Nori, had pointed it out, it became almost obvious.  _ To everyone except them. _

He was skeptical yet though. Thorin Oakenshield was as dense as his name suggested when it came to romance,  _ and other things,  _ and Bilbo seemed more cautious than his actions with the dragon may have suggested. Bofur was not entirely convinced that the king’s cuddle time with their burglar would speed along the process of courting all that much.  _ But Bilbo may decide to be bold once again, perhaps he will surprise us all, even himself. Shame if I lose, but the story shall be worth it. _

_ I wonder what their questions will be? _


End file.
